


The Empty John

by LunaIrenePond



Series: Stories From a Flat on Baker Street [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Episode: s03e01 The Empty Hearse, M/M, Post-Reichenbach, Story: The Adventure of the Empty House
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 05:52:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4336352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaIrenePond/pseuds/LunaIrenePond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John was bored. No, John was worse, he was empty without Sherlock. Every day was the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Empty John

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted between 2014-01-02 and 2014-08-27 so please excuse any childish tone or quality.

John was bored. No, John was worse, he was empty without Sherlock. Every day was the same. Every day at 8:00 John hailed a cab and went to the clinic where he worked. He never got a text to meet his best friend to go running through the city after some serial killer, but John had come to terms with that. John worked every day except for Sundays. On Sundays John went to church. Church, that was a revelation, John had never gone before the fall, now he was a regular attendee. John was struck in the same loop week after week for three years. But one day that loop stopped. It was in the spring of the third year. John was walking home from a crime scene where he had been helping Lestrade with a case. When he stopped and noticed a new book store on the corner of baker Street. So, he popped in for a quick look.

The first thing that stuck him odd was the fact that there was a whole stand devoted to bees. But then John saw the man who was sitting behind the desk. He was tall, had a smooth shave, his cheek bones were high, and he looked so much like Sherlock, but his hair was shorter and blond.

So, John took a chance and got a random mystery book slapped a post-it not on it that read, "You little shit," on it and went to check out.

The cashier smiled as he read the post-it and said, "I like this one too, John."

John looked him square in the eye, “Why?”

“Because you were in danger, Moriarty’s men were going to kill you if I didn’t jump and I needed to stay away to clean up the mess that was left.”

“So did you clean it up?”

“Yeah, well, almost, the reason I’m back in London is because of Moran. My brother caught sight of him on the Chunnel so I followed and that sniper case you were just on with Lestrade.”

“It was him wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” the taller man sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “John, I’m going to need your help again.”

“I’m always happy to help, Sherlock.”

He smiled, “Well then what are we waiting for? Let’s go back to Baker Street.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” John and Sherlock then walked hand in hand out of the book store and back to the flat. On the way Sherlock told John fantastic stories of murderers and mayhem, most of it John took with a grain of salt. He had always been prone to dramatics.

“How is Mary?” Sherlock asked eventually.

“She’s… she’s gone.” John said tuning out.

“Oh,” Sherlock said simply. “I just thought, well I don’t know what I thought, you’re still wearing your ring.”

“Yes, I couldn’t find the heart to take it off.”

“When did it happen?”

“A few months after you left.”

“Oh,” Sherlock stared at the ground at his feet as they stood in front of the flat. Neither felt okay enough to walk in. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s wasn’t your fault,” John sighed. “Come on,” he reached over and unlocked the door. “Mrs. Hudson?”

“Yes dear?” came the reply from her rooms down stairs.

John led Sherlock into Mrs. Hudson’s kitchen, “Hello.” Sherlock said meekly.

She jumped at the voice, “What? Sherlock, is that you?”

“Yeah….”

“Well, sit down and tell me what happened. You look like you need a good cuppa.” She shoved him into a chair at the kitchen table and slammed a mug down in front of him.

Sherlock then dived into his recap of everything, pausing every now and then to take a sip of the tea.

“So what are we going to do?” She asked once Sherlock seemed like he was finished.

“Well, Moran is set up in the empty house across the street from us and I have reliable accounts that he is going to try and kill me tonight. Because of course he knows that I am back in London. So we are going to set up a trap.”

Later that night everything was set in motion. John and Sherlock snuck to the house across the street while Mrs. Hudson sat with a dummy in Baker Street, making sure that it looked believably like Sherlock was still there. As John entered the building he believed it to be truly empty, until Sherlock waved him up to the third floor where there was the flicker of a flashlight. As they opened the door, both of them with their gun’s raised they were met with the sight of a man in his mid 30s with a gun set up and aimed at their flat. “I would put that away if I were you,” Sherlock said to the sniper.

“Ah, Sherlock, I thought you were taller,” the man smirked as he turned to look at the taller one.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” Moran said as he minutely flicked his wrist and Sherlock doubled over holding his stomach. Before John knew what he was doing his gun went off and Moran was collapsed on the floor with a bullet in his shoulder. “You missed,” he spat.

“That was the point. Give me any more trouble and I won’t miss next time.” John didn’t what to turn his back on the man but he had to in order to address the knife in Sherlock’s gut. “Hey, Sherlock, look at me okay?” John said gently as he tried to pry Sherlock’s hand away from the knife.

Sherlock slowly looked up.

“I have to pull the knife out,” John informed him as he took the handle in his hand, it was slick with blood. Sherlock screamed as it was pulled out and Moran started to cackle. John put another bullet into him, this time in his leg.

“What the hell man?!”

“You stab my friend; I shoot you, now shut up.”

The ambulance and police cars came after five more minutes of John talking mindlessly to Sherlock as he kept his hand pressed to Sherlock’s stomach making sure he wouldn’t die of blood loss. John spent the rest of the night with Sherlock, who was released in the morning. The first thing that he did when Sherlock finally stepped into Baker Street for good was to slam the other man against the wall and snogged him senseless. As he stepped away and walked up the stairs he called back to the taller man, “Never, do that to me again.”


End file.
